


The Governor's Deputy

by TheCreatorOfTales



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Description of intimidation but its not graphic, F/F, Fletcher is an ass, Freakytits - Freeform, Governor Ferguson doesnt fuck around she'll just kick your ass and explain why to you later, Harassment, Hurt/Comfort, Joan comforts Vera, Joan is ready to throw hands, Joan wants to put fletch through a wall, Protective!Joan, Season 2, joan doesnt appreciate anyone trying to intimidate Vera, or a window, theres a hint of freakytits in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27827962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCreatorOfTales/pseuds/TheCreatorOfTales
Summary: A quick drabble.Vera’s never really had anyone stick up for her before.Joan Ferguson defends her deputy with the ferocity of a lion when she sees Fletcher cornering Vera in the break room.SEASON 2 era
Relationships: Vera Bennett/Joan Ferguson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	The Governor's Deputy

**Author's Note:**

> Slight description of intimidation but Joan shuts that shit down immediately.

It’s the door to the officer’s break-room slamming open that brings her attention back to her current situation. Fletcher had gotten too close, too quickly for her comfort, and he’s looming over her with one hand braced on the wall by her head, his face a snarl after she turned down his offer for a drink _again._ The man had gone from playfully calm, insisting on her telling him why she wouldn’t go on a date with him to backing her up until her back had hit the wall.

All she can smell is stale alcohol. On his breath, seeping from his skin, on his clothes. He’s not overly drunk, but he isn’t sober either.

“All I’m asking is one DRINK! Why won’t you-“ The partially shouted words are cut off with a gurgle when he’s wrenched back by the scruff of his shirt and the Governor is there, yanking him into the center of the room with strength Vera didn’t know she possessed. She pulls him, not allowing him a chance to gain his footing, and the shirt is yanked into the front of his throat, the shoddily tied necktie not allowing the neck of the shirt to move any further, so Fletch is dragged to the other side of the room.

Joan Ferguson lets go once she’s happy that the man is as far away from her deputy as possible and then moves around him to stand between him and Vera, arms crossed and blocking his view of the shorter woman. Vera has stepped away from the wall now, and although her hands are shaking, she tugs on the bottom of her jacket, and wipes a hand over her hair, tucking any stray strands back into her French twist.

“So that’s turning up for your shift reeking of alcohol, unkempt uniform, attempted intimidation of your superior officer and negligence in your duties, Mr Fletcher. That warrants me sending you home, and there will be a discussion tomorrow. I recommend that you turn up sober for that.” The words are clipped and business-like. Vera has stepped forward and she’s close enough to the Deputy that she can smell the expensive perfume the woman favours, as well as the clenched jaw showing how closely her superior is holding onto her anger.

Fletch tries to protest, exclaiming loudly that he was only asking Vera out, but Joan cuts him off, fury in her tone.

“Mr Fletcher, last time I checked flinching back and then cowering into the wall you forced her back into doesn’t bode well for an offer for a date. And if you cannot respect your superior enough to leave her the hell alone after she tells you no the first time, that doesn’t reflect well on you as an officer or a man either!” Joan doesn’t mention that Vera is trembling so violently that she can practically feel it behind her back, knowing her deputy well enough by now that to bring it up would be a step too far for Vera. “Go home.”

“You can’t make me go home!”

“Want to bet? You can walk out of this building on your own two feet or I drag you physically, past your colleagues and possibly the inmates. Your choice.” Regardless of how he chooses to leave, Joan will make sure that he is out of the building within the next ten minutes. The man continues to posture, trying to save face but when the Governor takes one threatening step forward in his direction, he huffs and stalks to his locker, collecting his keys and phone, slamming the door shut as Will Jackson and Linda enter the breakroom, shocked at the commotion and hovering in the doorway.

They take one look at the imposing posture of the Governor, Vera half hidden behind her, still shaking and Fletch’s muttering under his breath and understand very quickly that they should be somewhere else. Linda raises her hands in the universal gesture of peace and the pair back out quickly, deciding to take their break later and walk down the corridor as quickly as they can without looking like they’re fleeing the room.

Fletch slams the door on his way out, the sound reverberating around the room.

Heaving a relieved sigh, Vera slumps into the nearest chair, placing a hand over her eyes. Through her fingers, she watches as the Governor’s posture relaxes, and she uncrosses her arms. Tugging on her jacket to remove any creases, she takes one look at her deputy and quickly steps into the small kitchen area and has the kettle boiling. After heaping sugar into a mug along with a teabag, she goes through the motions of making Vera a cup of tea. Although the woman usually took minimal sugar, she hopes the extra sugar staves off the effect of shock or her coming down from an adrenaline rush. She places the mug in front of her, and pats her shoulder, pulling a chair out next to her.

Vera’s hands come away from her face to cup the mug. “Thank you.” She says, in a low voice and looks up at Joan.

“How long has he been bugging you?” Is all Joan asks. Vera shrugs, an action she knows that Joan hates.

“Since the disastrous attempt at a hook up a year ago.” Vera takes a sip, appreciating the sugary taste to the tea. She’s thankful that she doesn’t have to elaborate further on that horrific experience with Fletch last year, having discussed it with the older woman previously over ridiculously strong gin and tonics. “I’ve always shrugged off his attempts for flirting, trying to get him to realise without taking offence that I’m not interested anymore.” She notices that her hands are shaking, and places the mug down.

“He _st_ _ank_ of alcohol, Joan. Stank.”

Joan nods, eyeing her deputy in contemplation. “Some of the other officers have pointed it out to me, more often recently.”

“Thank you for stepping in. I don’t even know how that happened, and I don’t know how I would have reacted if you hadn’t have come in.” Vera closes her eyes and breathes deeply, embarrassed that all she’d done was freeze.

“It happens, and it’s a natural instinct to just immediately freeze in this type of situation. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Joan is quick to reassure her, and pats her hand. Vera moves her hand and grips the Governor’s fingers. The shorter woman brings out protective instincts that she hasn’t felt for years, and tries not to delve too deeply into why. The woman had the right to come to work and not be intimidated into accepting a date from someone she wasn’t interested in just for some peace. Joan knows from previous experience that a well placed headbutt is enough for an insistent man to get the hint that she wasn’t interested and had learnt that lesson at age 25 when she was first starting out as a prison officer.

Vera drains the last of her mug, and squeezed Joan’s fingers gratefully one last time, and rises to rinse and dry the mug. She checks her reflection in the mirror that’s placed over the sink for some reason, tucking back any flyaway hairs and straightening her jacket. Joan has risen to her feet and has straightened her own blazer. Together, the pair walk over to the door and Joan holds it open for her deputy, who steps through with a grateful smile and they saunter down the corridor, giving off the air of one cohesive unit, not willing to put up with anything the women might throw at them today.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for all your support lovely people <3 truly means the world
> 
> As always, kudos and comments keep us writers going.


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